


And Keep Me Close To You

by st4rlabsforever (omaken)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Competitive sex, Humor, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slight Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:46:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaken/pseuds/st4rlabsforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry thinks that sex is the solution to all of his arguments with Cisco, and well...Cisco is starting to believe that Barry isn’t necessarily wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Keep Me Close To You

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry for writing this ~~not really~~

Cisco moaned in his sleep, or rather, what he’d thought had been his sleep, when he jolted awake and stilled suddenly.

The slick, gloved hand down the elastic hem of his boxers continued to stroke him leisurely, though.

Wait. What?

“Barry? What the hell?!”

“Shhh,” Barry whispered into his ear, and Cisco realized belatedly that Barry was laying flush against him.

He jerked backwards as the stroking sensations continued and his blood began to rush south. And in the silence of his bedroom, he could hear the creak of leather as his back pressed into Barry. Holy hell, was he wearing the suit? Not that it mattered to Cisco, but Barry taking him to bed in costume had been a major fantasy of his. Okay, it totally mattered.

And then he remembered their argument (“argument”™) that morning. They’d been giving each other the silent treatment (“silent treatment”™) all day. It wasn’t that Cisco was _actually_ upset with Barry, because he wasn’t, but he had his pride and, well, he and Barry had learned early on that they’d both had the need to be right. All. The Damn. Time. As long as Barry wasn’t backing down, neither was he.

Which was naturally how Cisco had found himself in his current predicament.

“Get -- _ahh_ , get off of me, dude,” he managed to finally grit out, but not for want of trying. The combination of Barry’s well-oiled hand working the length of his member and Barry’s tongue lapping at his earlobe made for a very convincing counterargument. Crap, no! He could do this! It was just one night.

“Just tell me to stop and I will,” Barry said easily, the low rumble of his trembling vocal chords reverberating against Cisco’s back and forcing Barry’s voice down a good octave or two. Jesus Christ.

Barry added a twist on the next downstroke and began vibrating his fingers while his free hand roamed down the neck of Cisco’s tee, caressing the crease in the center of Cisco’s chest, tweaking a nipple, gently pressing a thumb into the pressure point just above his stomach. Cisco slammed his eyes shut and squeezed his pillow tight. And he knew he was fucked. Literally, yes, because he wasn’t stupid -- he knew there was only one way this night was going to end, and he wasn’t coming out of it a winner -- but figuratively, too. Shit, he was about to get laid and he was considering it a loss because of some trumped-up argument (“argument”™) with Barry. He had to get a handle on this, and fast. He could do this...

“Well?” Barry prodded, all the while keeping up his ministrations.

All Cisco managed to get out was a moan. He could practically feel the smirk Barry’s stupid face was burning into the back of his neck.

(Barry hadn’t needed to see Cisco’s face to know the conflict that was playing out there, and it was _delicious_. To know that he was the cause of that…)

“Come on, Cisco. Just give in and this will get so much better.” Barry’s voice was beginning to sound like a beckoning. Cisco tensed his pelvic muscles -- anything to stop his body’s traitorous reaction -- even though he knew it was hopeless as his hips began to lift upward towards Barry’s fingers of their own accord. And then Barry was letting out a deep chuckle, the one he reserved for the bedroom, and only when he was dismantling Cisco piece by carnal piece, and Cisco was absolutely done for.

“Fuck it,” Cisco growled, and began thrusting back into Barry’s hand, completely uninterested in their “argument”™ anymore.

But Barry’s hands...stopped? The stroking and the caressing and the tweaking. All gone. Cisco nearly weeped at their absence. Whimpered and thrust pathetically, seeking the friction that he so desperately needed.

“Admit that I’m right and you’ll get your happy ending,” Barry said matter-of-factly.

Right. Of fucking course Barry hadn’t forgotten about the “argument”™. And that ignited the fire anew, because there was no way in fucking hell Cisco was going down like this.

Cisco shook his head mutely, not trusting himself to get all the words out without any embarrassing noises escaping, but Barry only tsk’ed and began stroking him again. To Cisco’s credit, he didn’t even try to stop his hips from reciprocating, was just singularly focused on not letting those treasonous words out of his mouth.

Barry took him to the edge of the precipice -- the angle and speed and stroke just right -- before pulling away again.

“No, no, no,” Cisco wailed. This was diabolical. Barry was careful enough to pull him back with adequate time so that even the brushing of Cisco’s cock against his own boxers wasn’t enough to send him over the edge, and it was maddening. “Please…” he whimpered, shame and desire and despair all one and the same.

He reached out with his own hand, set on finishing the job himself, but Barry shot out a suited arm and yanked Cisco back. “I don’t think so,” he said firmly and started to rub again.

(It sent a shock straight to Barry’s own cock to see the beautiful body splayed before him. Needy. _Frantic_.)

But Barry only brought him to the edge over and over, denying him release every single time.

“P-please, Bar,” he tried again. Pleaded. For mercy, or maybe pity. It all came down to this: Cisco had his cake and he wanted to eat it, too. Wanted his happy ending without also losing the “argument”™. “Just -- just let me _nghh_!” He jerked violently as a padded thumb slid over his slit. Textured, gloved fingers massaged the tip, and Cisco had designed those gloves for extra grip, but now he was beginning to feel like he’d played a hand in his own demise, because the sensation was euphoric.

“Say the magic words and you’ll get what you need,” Barry whispered, crouched in front of him now, soft words practically rasping into a growl at the end.

All Cisco could do was close his eyes. He prayed. He’d never been much of a church-goer, but his family had dragged him every weekend when he was younger and he knew a thing or two. How did it go, again? _Soul of Christ, make me holy. Wash me clean._

He realized he might have said the words out loud because Barry looked viciously delighted, grin sharp and roguish. And at this point, Cisco was trembling with the effort of keeping it together. A sweaty, stuttering mess.

Barry glanced at the digital alarm on Cisco’s nightstand. “It’s been about a half hour, yeah?” he asked casually, though they both knew Cisco was in no state to answer. “There’s about six more hours ‘till sunrise.”

And Cisco knew there was absolutely no way he could survive an entire goddamn night of this. He might even die if Barry kept this up, and Barry definitely looked like he was in this for the long haul.

Now, Cisco had never gotten mixed up with hard drugs in college, just weed and, one time when he’d needed a fresh perspective on his thesis, acid, but he imagined that this must’ve been how crack addicts felt because Barry had worked him up so thoroughly and efficiently that Cisco needed this release like an addict needed his next fix. He could hardly even think straight through the lust-fueled haze.

“What’s it gonna be?” Barry continued to fondle and massage Cisco’s shaft, adding in a stray vibration here and there, but never enough to finish. Never.

Cisco groaned, like a grotesquely tired person getting hit by a bus, and let go. There would be time later for him to be disgusted with himself for losing this one.

“ _OKAY, OKAY! STAR WARS IS BETTER THAN STAR TREK!”_

Immediately, Barry got to work on him. Cisco even thought he might’ve heard a victory cry somewhere in there, but he was too far gone to even care. Barry stroked rapidly, ramping up the vibrations past the point of no return and Cisco’s vision whited out. He finally, _finally_ came and it felt _endless_. He felt his boxers being ripped off by Barry (saw more than felt, actually, considering it had happened so quickly) and the continuous stream coated red fingers.

When Cisco was finally emptied -- and he couldn’t say whether it had lasted three seconds or thirty -- Barry gave him a smug grin. “See, was that so hard?” He caressed Cisco’s cheek with a gloved hand, semen still dripping, and Cisco wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or aroused, but he was ninety-five percent sure arousal won out in the end.

He was still shaking, twitching, without even the energy to snark back. Completely and utterly sated. At least, that was the reason he was going with if anyone asked why he was taking losing this argument so easily.

“Looks like I won that argument, then.”

Anddddd...there it was. Because Barry just couldn’t win without also rubbing it in.

“That’s -- that’s not how you win an argument!” Cisco spluttered indignantly. He could feel the self-righteous anger (“anger”™) rising up again.

Barry shrugged, cocky and confident. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“All I did was tell the lie you wanted to hear!”

Barry raised an eyebrow at that. “I can go twice as long next time, if that’s what you really want.”

And Cisco couldn’t help the twinge that went through his balls and straight down his dick, but he rolled his eyes, because even if he knew it and Barry knew it (‘it’ being how turned on that proposition had made Cisco), he had to keep up _some_ appearances. “Whatever, just shut up and get in bed with me already.”

*

The next day, Barry shot him a sunny grin when Cisco met up with him at CCPD. The Bambi, butter-wouldn’t-melt act was firmly in place, then. Cisco had to hand it to him -- everyone thought _Barry_ was the virtuous one.

“Hey, Joe!” Barry called out as they passed him. “We chose Star Wars for our movie marathon tonight.”

“Hmm?” Joe turned to Cisco. “Weren’t you all worked up about Star Trek last night? Thought you were a major Trekkie.”

“Oh, he came around,” Barry beamed. Cisco positively shivered when Barry slid an arm around his waist and vibrated his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on [tumblr](http://st4rlabsforever.tumblr.com)


End file.
